I thought you all might enjoy the story of how I got a (now mild after hard work) phobia of dinosaurs. My parents rented the first Jurassic Park movie a few years after it was released, having been to see it in theaters thanks to being parents.

I was too young to watch it, so they got me all set up in another room with my favorite movie after telling me how it was a scary movie that I wouldn’t want to watch (they were usually right, so I trusted their judgement). By the time they and my oldest sibling are getting into the story of their movie, I need a refill on my chocolate milk.

I’m fascinated by dinosaurs, as all nineties kids are, so I stop to watch on my way to the kitchen despite my parents’ warnings. And look, there are little kids just like me in it! I’ve never seen a movie with kids that’s not kid-friendly, so logically this must not be so bad. They’re so lucky they get to see dinosaurs up close and pet them! Even if it is raining too heavily for them to get out of the car.

Then the sunroof window pops out of the frame, and it’s the only thing between the screaming, crying children and the giant, toothy monster that wants to eat them, and I also start scream-crying.

Parents pause movie, help me with my chocolate milk, reassure me that it’s just a movie and the dinosaur is a robot they made for the film, the kids are fine they’re just pretending to be scared for the movie, let’s get you back in with Barbie Nutcracker what spot were you at? Is it your favorite part of the movie? No, your favorite is coming up? Oh, that’ll be great. Go ahead, keep watching to get to that part. Remember, movies aren’t real, oh, but Barbie magic is real, you’re right; it’s grown-up movies that aren’t real.

When my movie ends (because children’s movies are short), I go to see where they’re at in theirs. I’m thinking I’ll catch the ending and get to see the kids going home happy and safe and maybe playing with a nice dinosaur. Maybe they’ll have brought a plant eater’s egg home and have a cute baby dino pet! It will be healing.

As I sneak in and get a good view of the TV, a velociraptor looks through a porthole window and grips a door handle as the children scramble into counters and choke back sobs…

I was working as a concierge at a high-end hotel in Hawaii. A new guy is working his first week and is approached by a guest:

Guest: “I’m booking a whale watching tour for later. What time are the whales out jumping?”

New Hire: “They are not on the payroll.”

I was about to run over in a panic, but the guest actually laughed when they realized how silly the question was.

I grew up in a country with compulsory military service, which I hated like nothing before or since. I generally tried to get out of doing whatever we were supposed to be doing.

One day we did orienteering. There were seven manned posts we needed to reach. When my team partner and I got to the first one, we were told that we were the last team to arrive, by some distance. It was obvious that we had no chance of making all seven posts. So, we went to the first pub we came across instead.

At the pub, we worked out a plan. That first post was in a corner of the map. So, we decided that we would say that we “walked off the edge of the map and couldn’t find our way back in”.

We stayed at the pub until about 7 PM and then headed back to base. There we discovered that they were just about to dispatch a search party. They got alarmed when all other teams had returned and we never even made it to the second post.

They didn’t quite buy our excuse, and we got interrogated as to what the area we were at looked like. So, we responded with “there was a small road, and a lot of forest. We saw a creek.”, etc.

I don’t think they bought it, but there was also nothing they could do.

I’m taking a group on a northern lights cruise. It’s a two-night tour, and we’re pretty far north, so we have good chances to see the aurora.

When they finally appear, everyone starts taking pictures, but one of the tourists looks upset.

Me: “Is everything alright? Do you need help with your camera?”

Tourist: “No, I’m getting some nice shots but… they’re so high up!”

Me: “Yes, they’re in the atmosphere.”

Tourist: “All the promotional pictures make them look like they’re almost surrounding you.”

Me: “I’m not sure what promotional pictures you’ve been looking at, but in ours the northern lights are always… uhm… up in the sky.”

Tourist: “My neck is going to hurt tomorrow morning, and that will be reflected in my review. I just feel like the advertising should be more transparent about this…”

I’m attending a ren faire with my friend, who uses an assistance dog. Regular pets aren’t allowed in, and on top of the dog wearing a ”service dog – please ignore” vest, you think it must be clear that people should respect that, but he’s the centre of unwanted attention throughout the day. It has to be said that the dog in question is a very handsome, incredibly fluffy boy of quite a rare breed (Chebo), so we get stopped often by people who ask what breed he is, to ”aww” over him, or still ask if they can pet him. 

At this festival, which is also quite spiritually oriented, they have this ritual where they burn a giant wicker figure, and you can place an offering in it beforehand. (Friend) wants to queue up to do so, but that line is really close to the main stage where quite a loud band is playing at the moment, and his dog is reacting uneasily to all the noise. I offer to take the dog a bit further away so he can queue. (The dog is not clinically needed for his condition, so they can be apart for a bit without issues.) 

I sit down with the dog in a grassy patch away from the stage. Friend texts me to ask if we found a good spot. I take a selfie of me and the dog to confirm. A man walks up to me.

Man: “Give me your phone. I’ll take a picture of you and your dog. What a handsome one at that!”

He reaches for my phone.

Me: “Wow! Okay… that is not needed, thank you.”

Man: “No, it’s cool, I’ll take a good picture of the both of you, just go sit beside him!” *Reaches for my phone again.*

Me: *Panicking a bit.* “…he’s not even my dog, so no thanks.”

The man looks puzzled, then stalks off, muttering “ungrateful weirdo” under his breath.

I haven’t recovered from that yet when the next person comes to invade my space. A woman in pirate costume and clearly under the influence of… something… stalks up to me and addresses me in English.

Woman: “Cool dog dude! I know it says, ‘service dog’ on his vest, so I won’t pet him, but can you maybe let him sniff me?”

She’s already crouched down with her face right next to the dog before I can say anything.

Me: “Nope, I’d rather you just ignore him.”

Woman: “Awww, come on! What can you let me do with him, pleaaaase? Maybe let him give me a kiss?” *Moves her head even closer to dog.*

Me: “Nothing. Ignore him. He’s working.”

She pouts.

Woman: “Where are you from?”

Me: “From here… The Netherlands.”

Woman: *Suddenly switches to Dutch.* “Hey, you idiot, why didn’t you just say that? I could have spoken simple Dutch to you all along!”

She then leaves with a ”pat” (straight-up slap) to my back. Maybe don’t touch strangers like that…?

The dog has behaved impeccably throughout this weirdness, though he seems a bit bamboozled. He looks at me with an utterly lost look on his face.

Me: *To dog.* “You and me both, dude.”